Grace.  Well?

Charteris.  I’m afraid to face you after last night.  Can you imagine a more horrible scene?  Don’t you hate the very sight of me after it?

Grace.  Oh, no.

Charteris.  Then you ought to.  Ugh! it was hideous—­an insult—­an outrage.  A nice end to all my plans for making you happy—­for making you an exception to all the women who swear I have made them miserable!

Grace (sitting down placidly).  I am not at all miserable.  I’m sorry; but I shan’t break my heart.

Charteris.  No:  yours is a thoroughbred heart:  you don’t scream and cry every time it’s pinched.  That’s why you are the only possible woman for me.

Grace (shaking her head).  Not now.  Never any more.

Charteris.  Never!  What do you mean?

Grace.  What I say, Leonard.

Charteris.  Jilted again!  The fickleness of women I love is only equaled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me.  Well, well!  I see how it is, Grace:  you can’t get over that horrible scene last night.  Imagine her saying I had kissed her within the last two days!

Grace (rising eagerly).  Was that not true?

Charteris.  True!  No:  a thumping lie.

Grace.  Oh, I’m so glad.  That was the only thing that really hurt me.

Charteris.  Just why she said it.  How adorable of you to care!  My darling. (He seizes her hands and presses them to his breast.)

Grace.  Remember! it’s all broken off.

Charteris.  Ah yes:  you have my heart in your hands.  Break it.  Throw my happiness out of the window.

Grace.  Oh, Leonard, does your happiness really depend on me?

Charteris (tenderly).  Absolutely. (She beams with delight.  A sudden revulsion comes to him at the sight:  he recoils, dropping her hands and crying) Ah no:  why should I lie to you? (He folds his arms and adds firmly) My happiness depends on nobody but myself.  I can do without you.

Grace (nerving herself).  So you shall.  Thank you for the truth.  Now I will tell you the truth.

Charteris (unfolding his arms and again recoiling).  No, please.  Don’t.  As a philosopher, it’s my business to tell other people the truth; but it’s not their business to tell it to me.  I don’t like it:  it hurts.

Grace (quietly).  It’s only that I love you.

Charteris.  Ah! that’s not a philosophic truth.  You may tell me that as often as you like. (He takes her in his arms.)

Grace.  Yes, Leonard; but I’m an advanced woman. (He checks himself and looks at her in some consternation.) I’m what my father calls a New Woman. (He lets her go and stares at her.) I quite agree with all your ideas.

Charteris (scandalized).  That’s a nice thing for a respectable woman to say!  You ought to be ashamed of yourself.